Kenneth Dekker lives trapped in the hospital undergoing robotic lung treatment. He regularly escapes to the VR world Atlas Quest--his safe haven. There he befriends another player, a girl named Byrd. Over time, he takes comfort in having another hum...
The bot slowly rolled into the room, closing the door with an almost solemn look. Assuming bots could look solemn. Kenneth assumed they could, at least in the moments where they were assisting him in deciding his fate.
With a slow whirr, the bot approached his bedside and stopped. Its deep-set glowing eyes stared down at him from the oval it called a face. The doctor bots somehow possess an almost human look to them. Kenneth wondered if it was to prevent fight or flight responses after major medical procedures. He knew it didn't stop his, though. His arms curled around him tighter and he meekly looked up. Already he'd gotten himself sitting--something he technically wasn't supposed to do on his own.
"You wished to speak to me concerning aid for your lung transplant?" the bot droned, extending a hand to bring up the displays with all of Kenneth's information. He nodded and swallowed at the red display. Red was a very bad color on your personal health display, and he eventually averted his eyes. He rubbed his thumb in his shirt in circles.
"Yes, I wanted to request..." his mouth went dry. He swallowed hard, mustering his voice back up. "I wanted to request. Help...financial help."
The bot's oval head dipped once. The display disappeared as it lowered its arm. "Where are you requesting financial aid from?" it questioned.
Kenneth turned his head away and lifted one hand to rub through his hair. His heart was pounding in his ribs like a caged bird. If I just pass out now, have a heart attack, or stop breathing, I don't have to call her. He toyed with the idea, but it brought a shiver of panic through his body. The hair on his arms stood on end. No, I have to do this. His eyes fell to the side, looking at the headset lying dormant, If for no one else than the one person on his planet who's expressed any care for me whatsoever. I have to do this.
Swallowing dryly, he choked down the knot that was still growing in his throat and lifted his chin. His jaw trembled with fear as he cracked his lips open to speak. "M-My mother..." he whispered, his voice barely audible in his own ears.
The bot dipped it's head once more and stood there silent a moment. Kenneth peered at it, wondering if it was computing. Then it's head shot up and it lifted the other arm, bringing up the holographic image and information on his mother. Goodness, she didn't age well, he thought, frowning and squinting at her photo. He remained back from, it though. He'd seen that same sharp glare on her face before and it never brought good memories. His skin crawled and he inhaled deeply, finding it hard.
"Identify. Confirm Vivian Dekker, ID: 036-65-987 as 'Mom' or 'Parent'," it prompted, eyes glowing as it rolled forward.
Kenneth shied back still, his hands curling to his chest. His thumb began to weave in circles on the fabric of his shirt near his collarbone. White crept into his complexion but he nodded quickly, just wanting that image to go away. He screwed his eyes shut. What are you doing? You can't even stand up to an image of the woman who hurt you all those years ago, how are you going to deal with her? Tears started to well up in his eyes, filling as the overwhelm piled itself onto his chest. Each breath came shorter, harder. He wheezed briefly and a robotic hand pushed him to lay down. Kenneth twisted away, but he laid back and curled up, shivering.
"This is causing an internal stress response. I will continue when you are calm."
Gasping, Kenneth cracked his eyes and just shook his head. "No, keep going," he panted. I have to get this over with, he thought. "Yes, I confirm, I confirm," he whispered. "Keep going."
The bot hesitated. It seemed to stall, and the image disappeared before it bowed its head in acknowledgment. It turned and retrieved the datapad. Rarely did the bots ever use it, and normally it collected dust on the shelf. Kenneth had considered "borrowing" it a couple of times in the past when he couldn't get straight answers on his condition. Remaining in the hospital and not in custody in the hospital had been enough to keep him from ever trying, though. He might be a runaway, but he wasn't a thief.
The bot dropped the datapad on the bed--its version of gently setting it down--and held out the stylus. "I will draw up proper legal documentation. Vivian Dekker is not a recognized guardian because you meet the law requirement of 18 or older. You must also nullify the restraining order to receive her aid. If you agree, she will be contacted within the week." The bot finished typing on the datapad and then slid it towards Kenneth.
He reached out and grabbed the datapad. His fingers felt almost numb, but he took the stylus as well and fumbled it into his hand. Staring down at the papers, he skimmed them, skipping the words he didn't know and trying to make sense of the legalities. Blood raced to his head, pounding with the beat of his heart in his ears. His lips parted as he struggled raggedly to breathe. At the bottom, under all the paragraphs repeating over and over his rights as an adult and the implications of attaching himself to a former legal guardian for financial aid, he saw the blank empty line. His stomach lurched and he thought he might be sick, twisting away for a moment.
"Do you require--"
"No," he rasped, cutting the bot off. "I-I'm fine..." Turning, he put the shaking stylus to the line and scribbled out something resembling a signature. Then he shoved the datapad away, turned around and vomited over the side of the bed. Collapsing onto his side and stomach, he let tears well up in his eyes. He'd just signed his life away. He'd signed his life away to her, the monster who caused all of this in the first place. The emptiness that had occupied that line seemed to shift into his chest, pushing out all hope. He coughed and wheezed as a cleaner bot began to clean up the mess of vomit on the floor. A tear slid down his cheek, warm against his cool skin.
Behind him came the voice tone of the doctor bot. "Legalities are in place. We will place the call and request financial aid. Do you require anything else?"
Without the courage or strength to speak, Kenneth shook his head and settled it back into the pillow. Another tear slid down into the corner of his mouth, salt mixing with the bile left on his tongue. He gagged and choked down the urge to throw up again with a shiver. I did it. I signed my life away. His fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt against his bony chest and he turned, muffling his face in the pillow. Oxygen clicked in his ears, a cold rush of air running through his nose. He barely felt it against the heat of fear crawling through his body. What have I done? He thought, What have I done? Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks and he had to lift his head to breathe. He laid it back, staring through a blur at the room. Remorse was working its way into his stomach, tying it into more knots until his stomach hurt. He pressed his arms to his abdomen and whimpered softly, knowing the bots wouldn't hear or care.
His mother was coming back into his life, and he didn't know what to expect after five years. Was she even the same person? He couldn't imagine her to be any different, though. He shook his head, his lips tightening as his eyes hardened behind the tears. No, she wouldn't have changed. At her core she was evil.
He choked up some, panting with the chill of panic. And I'm the one inviting her back into my life...
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